Cry Myself To Sleep
by Anitra Pachelbel
Summary: I had no proof of what i had seen, but i was no longer afraid, because i knew who he truly was (No fluff, no pairing, no slash....EXCELLENT ONE-SHOT!) R'n'R


Disclaimer: Ginny and Draco are Rowling's, Draco's poem is Fred Durst's. HAPPY???  
  
Authors note: Beautiful angsty one shot, no fluff, lovely descriptions maybe a little bit OOC  
  
Cry myself to sleep  
  
He was spread across that huge green armchair, making it clear to anyone that entered that it was his. He spoke in his usual drawl, and his gray eyes were emotionless.  
  
His platinum blonde hair was sleeked back, as always, and his sarcastic smirk painted in the right place, his robes playing with the wind and his expensive shoes.  
  
His left index finger softly tapped seconds onto the leather arm of the chair, the thumb on his right hand playing subtly with the delicate bridge of his nose.  
  
His feet crossed on a small table top, making him look belonging and yet strongly imposing, like he knew that he could have it all.  
  
A weak air of his lotion reaching me, it smelled good, of a man in youth, and it suited him too, and I just knew that whenever I smelt that lotion again, I would instantly be reminded of him.  
  
The cold air didn't seem to bother him, but I felt myself get Goosebumps, the air was freezing, below zero obviously, and he just sat there, oblivious to it all.  
  
If someone erased that horrid smirk off his face, he would be perfect, in him I would not find a single flaw, but there is no perfection in this sick, sad world.  
  
He stood up and left me standing there bare footed in the freezing cold, my small flowery dress swirling around my pale and delicate knees.  
  
He wasn't the usual school bully, because it wasn't annoyance that you felt when you saw him stride confidently towards you, it was fear, and you instantly felt diminished.  
  
And he knew this, and took advantage of this and his towering height of 6'4''. He molested each person differently, He knew exactly how to get to each one, including me. He made me feel like i was worth nothing, however hard i tried, and I always ended up crying on my pillow, wishing I hadn't been born. But I couldn't let him know, because he'd love it.  
  
I saw a small black leather book that had the initials D.M. Carved in gold. It was a small book, but not quite a pocket, and it had been dropped, not left intentionally.  
  
I took the book and opened it out of mere curiosity, because I didn't know what I'd find. But I was definitely not expecting what I saw.  
  
Nobody knows me, and yet everyone's afraid Nobody knows what they don't know So never think that you might know me I'm not something to take home the night Nobody knows the way the candle burns And I've learned to play both ends I'm not something to take home the night If I try enough, To get hard enough Most grown men don't cry enough So I'll just cry myself to sleep.  
  
I dropped the book and raised my right hand to my trembling lips. But I didn't know why my lips were trembling. I didn't know if I simply felt cold, but I was guessing it was deeper than that, because my cheeks were also wet.  
  
I dared not read any further, instead I shakily picked the book up from the old library floor, and began to make my way toward the dungeons, guessing that's where he had gone.  
  
My bare and now numb feet knew where to take me, and soon i arrived, only to find he who I was looking for cursing at the top of his lungs to the dormitory door.  
  
But I was no longer afraid, because I knew who he was, who he really was. So I began to make my way toward him, and when he saw me do so, his cursing immediately stopped.  
  
What do you want?  
  
I simply took his book and showed it to him, hiding it again behind my back, I looked into his eyes, now dangerously close to him, he was no longer smirking, or scowling, his face was simply straight.  
  
But his eyes were still emotionless, until I looked up o him, his face didn't move, but inside his storm cloud of eyes, I saw his soul crying, maybe just a second, maybe I imagined it all, but he grabbed the book of my hands, and began to run into his dorms.  
  
And with a swish of his cloaks he disappeared behind the door, with a clear intention of staying there. Was he afraid? Afraid of what people would say if they knew who he really was? Was he so afraid of spontaneous?  
  
So I at last found his flaw, that one which could not be fixed. He was a coward, he was afraid and diminished by what he was, and what people would say if they found out.  
  
But why hide behind someone that everyone hates, and you know they do? I had no proof of what I had seen, and even if I did, I had no intention of publishing it, but I knew it myself, and that was enough.  
  
Yet I knew I would never be able to look at him the same way. No more mean perverted rich idiot, No more ill minded, despised spoilt brat. Just him, as he really was, crying to the moonlight, and begging for it all to stop.  
  
I began to make my way to my dorms, my long red her gently tapping against my back with the rhythm of my strides. And as I walked, I felt sad, were there really people that lived like that? So many undiscovered.  
  
It was until I saw the world in this new light that I realized how lucky I really was, I was myself all the time, small, shy, plain me, but me all the way.  
  
I also knew that I had something else that he didn't, something that all his riches would never buy him, I had people that loved me, through and through, for what I was, and I would never be left to stand alone.  
  
I didn't have a manor, or a mansion, or anything of the sort, but I had a home, not a house, a home. Then I also realized how unfair life was, I had everything, and he had nothing, nothing real.  
  
I entered my room, tears sourly dropping from my eyes, all the world seemed to be covered by a huge black veil, and all I could do was throw myself on the bed, and I did so.  
  
I sobbed quietly onto my pillow, also silently thanking god for what he gave me, I curled into fetal position, and closed my eyes, it had only been half an hour, he had made me cry on my bed again, but this time I cried for his helplessness, not for my inexistent uselessness.  
  
So I lay there and cried, My cheeks wet with sorrow, like they often were after seeing him and I cried myself to sleep.  
  
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Thank you for reading, Nice unfluffy ficlet.  
  
REVIEW FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!! 


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